


Seven Stages

by Bexinthecity247



Category: Bodyguard (TV 2018)
Genre: David will feature in super hot (and tender/romantic) flashbacks, Death, F/M, Please Don't Hate Me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-30
Updated: 2019-02-19
Packaged: 2019-09-02 16:28:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 12,973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16790530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bexinthecity247/pseuds/Bexinthecity247
Summary: Grief. The seven stages of grief. She had never subscribed to any of it before, not during her early miscarriage, nor her disastrous marriage, and certainly not when her father died. And yet the word shrouded her now, a cloak made of darkness and pain that had such a choke hold on her she couldn’t breathe.





	1. Shock

**Author's Note:**

> So .. yeah I am a whore for angst and sadness and tragedy it seems. However - I PROMISE David features in very sweet (and in most cases SUPER SEXY) flashbacks.  
> And everyone knows I don't like Vicky but I chose not to demonise her here.  
> I will resume normal happy fics shortly after (PROMISE!)

Grief. The seven stages of grief. She had never subscribed to any of it before, not during her early miscarriage, nor her disastrous marriage, and certainly not when her father died. And yet the word shrouded her now, a cloak made of darkness and pain that had such a choke hold on her she couldn’t breathe. 

The surgeon looked at her like she might break. Clearly, he didn’t know her very well, didn’t know she was THE Julia Montague who broke for no one. Except she was breaking now. Subtly, each part of her made of glass and she was shattering in slow motion.

“I’m very sorry Mrs Budd, there was just too much damage to repair,” he was saying, and she was breaking.

_“I now pronounce you_ _Mr_ _and_ _Mrs_ _Budd.” It was a small affair, just them, and a handful of relatives who bore witness to them unifying their love. He grinned at her, she smiled back, their hands and their hearts joined._

She gasped in. People always said that they feel their world coming crashing down around them sometimes, when they lost a loved one. But that’s not what happened, at least not right away. The end of her world would be slow, and torturous, teasing out every strain of colour from her world and replacing it with dull greys. She swayed and he reached an arm out to grab her, but she moved to avoid his touch. She only wanted one man to touch her and now he never would.

“Can I see him?” 

_“You may kiss the bride,” the registrar’s face was kind, like she never tired of seeing lovers getting hitched. And he dropped her hands, moving to cup her face as his lips tenderly met hers._ _He was the most beautiful she thought she’d ever seen_ _him,_ _and she wanted to drown in him._

_She was sure she’d never tire of the way she felt when his skin touched hers, the way he tasted and smelt. She rested her hands on his forearms, trailing up to rest on his neck. It felt like forever could never touch them._

She didn’t know why she asked. She couldn’t think of anything worse than seeing him like that. She missed him already. How was that possible? 

“It’s your right … but … Mrs Budd, I really wouldn’t advise it. There was extensive damage done to the cervical artery, his neck, I... I just wouldn’t advise it,” the surgeon said. To his credit he tried his best to sound empathetic, but it wasn’t his spouse who’d been shot through the throat in the line of duty. It wasn’t him who was going home alone, and not by choice.

“I need to talk to his wife-his ex-wife, their children,” she found herself saying. Even the surgeon raised an eyebrow at her clinical tone. 

The thought carried her from the car, to a house she’d only ever been inside a handful of times, despite the many weekends she’d spent sat outside. When she knocked, she frowned at her shaking hand, clenching her fist until it stopped. Her eyes were sore, and she could feel them watering, the door blurring behind her crystal curtain of devastation.

_“I really think you ought to reconsider the stance on that Home Secretary.” Mike was like a fucking bulldog with a bone! She_ _pinched the bridge of her nose and made a point of checking her watch._

_“I have to agree that-” Stephen’s words faded to background noise as her eyes caught Anne Sampson’s glance through the glass._

_Nausea rose in her just as fast as the_ _realisation_ _that something terrible had happened. Anne’s face was white, her eyes pained, as they connected intensely with hers. And Julia was rising out of her chair, her heart hammering in her throat and her vision blurring. Nothing’s wrong, she tried to tell_ _herself,_ _but Anne cast her desolate glance down at the ground a little too quickly and she knew._

It was Vicky’s boyfriend who answered, his face uneasy when he saw her. Even after all this time she knew he was unsure how to address her.

“Julia...everything okay?” he settled on and she drew in air.

“I need to talk to Vicky and the children,” she said, a true politician’s answer. 

“They’re not here,” he said, eyes softened in sympathy for her wasted journey. If only he knew. “They’ll be home in about twenty minutes if you wanna come in and wait?” 

She didn’t want to wait but she felt she ought to, lest she go home, lock herself in her bedroom and never return to the land of the living ever again. 

“Err yes...if that’s okay,” she said, instead and he smiled cautiously, stepping aside to let her into the house. 

It was pleasant as ever, lived in, though less extravagant than Casa Montague-Budd, and photos of children adorned the walls.

“Sure, no problem. Do you want a cuppa?” He was already in the kitchen, kettle already boiling.

“Please,” she called. She didn’t really want one, but she couldn’t bear not having something in her hands, something to focus on besides the overwhelming hole in her chest, her soul.

She sank into the sofa feeling more than awkward. She was not friends with these people, her only tangible link to them had been David and now, without him, she didn’t know where she stood. Suddenly she realised she was unsure where she stood in any walk of life, without him.

He returned with a steaming cup and she smiled, at least she thought it might have been a smile, as she took it, thanking him quietly. He sat opposite her, a thick suffocating silence descending.

“David tells me you have a new job, how is it?” she said suddenly. A jolt shot through her with the mention of his name; it seemed so natural... Luke masked his surprise at her interest with a sip from his cup.

“Err yeah, it’s a’right. I mean I don’t want to be working as a porter all me life, but with the way this bloody government’s going, I'm just glad I’ve got a job,” he said, a beat passing before he realised what he’d said, and a look of horror crossed his eyes. He went to apologise perhaps, but she shook her head. She didn’t care what he thought of her government, her policies. Even what he thought of her.

_“Excuse me,” she thought she’d murmured but she wasn’t sure, and she was on the office floor before anyone stopped her._

_She took only a handful of steps to her destination._

_“What is it?” she asked. No greetings exchanged. Anne thrust her hands into her trouser pockets, her eyes fixed on a spot just behind her._

_“Ma’am... Home Secretary, I need you to-” she started._

_“What is it?!” Julia repeated, her pulse pounding in her ear._

_Anne finally rose her eyes to meet hers, her shoulders hunched._

_“Julia... I need you to come with me,” Anne said. She was a boss, who cared about her officers and that care and sympathy was shrouding her entire face. “David’s been shot, they’re not sure-” she stopped, clearing her throat, “they’re not sure if he will make it.”_

The flinging open of a door and animated voices broke the horrid silence, only for a moment as Vicky barreled into the room with two laughing children, her face contorted in mirth which faded when she saw her boyfriend and her ex-husband's wife sat opposite in dead silence.

The kids however, didn’t notice the mood.

“Julia!” they cried, full of exuberance as they ran to hug her. Julia fixed her face in a smile that was shaking even before her eyes watered. Vicky frowned.

“Babe, can you take the kids outside, maybe go walk Rocky or something,” she said after each child had hugged their stepmother and Luke rose sharply, happy to be out of the room, Julia suspected. 

“Julia what’s going on? It’s not Wednesday and it’s three in the afternoon...” Vicky said, moving around to take the place her boyfriend had occupied until moment’s prior. 

If the same unease of realisation was growing in her former love rival, just as it had her, she didn’t show it and Julia looked her in the eye, delivering the words that felt so unbearably foreign to her.

“David’s dead.”


	2. Pain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The second stage: Pain.  
> Julia returns to their empty flat, alone now and forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The comments on this have been astounding and I am so happy to read all of them. So thank you so much!!

The flat was cold, empty. Vicky had offered her to stay for dinner, but she looked at their little family and felt like she didn’t belong. Her connection to the Budd family was through David, not her own merits. She pushed open the door of their flat, her flat now, and shrugged off her coat.

“I’m home,” she called, the words dying on her lips when she realised there was no one to hear them. “Oh...” The thought didn’t bring tears to her eyes, nor did it make her feel cold. She didn’t feel anything at all, just a complete and utter hollowness. Maybe that’s what extreme pain felt like; a complete sensory shutdown. She couldn’t be sure; this was the first time she’d ever felt it.

_She pulled her coat tighter around her, the cool air of Bruges biting at her through the thin jumper she wore. He looked up at her from the coffee stall and she smiled. She didn’t think she’d ever be this happy. Their first anniversary was spent reflecting on the past, what_ _they’d almost lost but for their second, David vowed to make it different. He was approaching her with two hot cups of coffee in his hand, a red scarf pulled tight around his neck and a grin on his face._

_“Here_ _ya_ _go, love,” he said, handing one of the cups to her, taking her other hand in his._

She poured herself a drink, unsure why, it just seemed like something to do, something to fill the emptiness. It tasted bitter and she wondered if everything would taste like that now. Like the thrill of life, the very reason for it, had been sucked from her. It is then she noticed the files littered on the coffee table and she leaned over to push them out of the way, one by one, until she found one that would hold her attention. 

She sipped the bitter coffee and sank onto the sofa, pulling the nearest one to her. Lifting it up revealed a piece of paper underneath like an archaeologist unearthing a treasured relic. It was a shopping list, and she recognised the handwriting not as her own, but of David’s. She traced her finger down the scrawled words that ranged from tomatoes, to pasta. But still the hollowness would not abate and let the tears come.

_It snowed on the second day, instantly transforming the architecturally wonderful town into a fairytale in a ma_ _tt_ _er of hours as the flakes fell delicately around the throngs of Christmas shoppers. They stopped in a bar when they got too cold, he_ _opting_ _for a pint of local cider, she a white wine, as they watched the crowds coming and going. His arm rested against her back and she leaned into him, absorbing his body heat as well as sharing her own._

_She knew she should be worrying about the bill she was going to be presenting upon her return in January but sitting here, with him, warm and pressed into her side, she found she didn’t care. Politics the furthest thing from her mind as he traced shapes on her upper back. He leant towards her, pressing a kiss to her temple in what she was sure, was a_ _sickly-sweet_ _display to everyone else but them._

She replaced it on the table, covering it with a report she knew she wouldn’t have to move for a while, before pulling another towards her and opening it. The words sprung out of the page but she realised with a start that she had read the same line five times, and nothing had gone in. She wondered if she’d have to call David’s mother or if the police had already taken care of that, perhaps she should have asked, he thought. She chewed her lip, her eyes looking to the phone. She was at a loss as to what to do. 

Finally, she reasoned that had his mother already known, she’d have been calling constantly since it was announced and thus, she reasoned, she couldn’t possibly know. But could she stomach telling her? She knew the longer she left it, the worse it would be, but the very thought made her nauseous. Fuck. 

_“Yep..._ _mhm_ _... yeah mum, everything’s good,” he was saying as he walked back to Julia._ _She stood at a stall, buying what looked like a snow globe. He smiled. The snow had stopped that afternoon, leaving the ground in a thin layer of_ _white._ _"_ _Yes_ _mum, Julia’s having a nice time too, she says_ _‘_ _hi_ _’_ _.”_

_His arm was snaking around her waist as she conversed with the stall owner in perfect Dutch. Another talent he had unearthed recently._

_“Alright, I'm_ _gonna_ _go now, tell the kids I'll call them later okay? Yeah, love you too.” He clicked off the phone and slipped it into his pocket just as she was handed a delicately decorated gift bag which he took from her dutifully, his other hand encasing hers. “Mum says ‘hello’.”_

Julia figured she could put off calling her until the next day, after a good night’s sleep. She would need it to face the task. Julia Montague was not someone who usually needed to gird her loins before launching into battle, but this was one battle she desperately wished she didn’t have to fight. It was a lonely, painful one. But still, she rolled her shoulders, fiddling with her hands as she steeled herself for it. She would face this unfathomable task just as she faced every other difficult one that had come before it. 

She was compartmentalising. She knew that before it even started happening and she knew it was unhealthy. It would not allow her to grieve but she was almost afraid that once she started grieving, she’d never stop and so she put David in a box in her mind, all the happy memories, all the unhappy ones, all mixed into a Pandora’s box not to be reopened. She was breaking down each thing she needed to take care of, his funeral, his obituary, his family. Her chest hitched as the box creaked open.

_“It’s d..._ _lish_ _..._ _oof_ _,” she said around the mouthful of waffle. He laughed._

_“What?” he said. She swallowed and tilted her head at him._

_“I said, it’s delicious.” It had started snowing again on their third day and as she dropped the empty container into a bin, she pulled her coat tighter around herself._

_He watched her as he swallowed the last of his own and too dropped the container into the same bin, his arm going around her, pulling her into him as they walked slowly, taking in the glittering lights._

_Everything about it was cliched, and straight out of the biggest romance books going, something Julia had never cared for before, but she cared now. They stopped at the Bottom of the Belfort tower, looking up at the snow that fell so_ _soflty_ _it was barely there. Somewhere a violinist played the opening melodies of something she thought sounded like Mozart and she_ _turned_ _to David, his blue eyes so full of wonderment at the construction of such a beautiful monument._

_When he lowered his head to look at her, she leaned in, pressing her mouth against his. His hand went up to cup her cheek as he returned her affections. When he pulled away for air, resting his forehead on hers, he brushed the light dusting of snow out of the curls in her hair and she smiled._ _Yes,_ _this was what the books meant when they talked of true happiness._

She took her cup to the immaculate kitchen, dropping it into the sink. She lingered, unsure what else to do. Should she try and watch television? She never watched it unless he was, she didn’t even really know why they had the damned thing. It was only half seven, perhaps too early for bed. She could work on those reports, she surmised, turning her glance back over them. Something heavy was spreading across her chest; it was uncomfortable, and she gripped the countertop so hard her knuckles went white. 

Bed. It was the only option and so she crossed across the flat and pushed open the bedroom door. The room was almost immaculate, as it always was, but atop the duvet was a white shirt looking almost accusatorily up at her. Her breath caught and she took a shaky step towards it, her hands reaching out for it. The hollow numbness was clearing, and a crushing agony was left. She felt the fabric in her hands as if touching it for the first time though she knew that wasn’t true; she had handled his shirts plenty of times before, both in tearing them off him, and washing them. 

She climbed onto the bed, laying on his side, and brought the shirt up to her face. When she breathed in, eyes closed, it still smelt like him; a mixture of his cologne and his natural scent and she felt the agony of realisation thudding through her chest like a volt of electricity. He was never going to come home to her again. He’d never hold her, never kiss her, never make love to her, never smile or laugh at her. She let out a sob as she clutched his shirt to her chest, fingers tangled up in it like she’d tangled in his hair so many times. Pain was sweeping through her and the tears were falling like rain. Just as she feared, once she’d started, she couldn’t stop as the dam burst and she wailed like a dying animal 


	3. Anger & Bargaining

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The third stage is anger and bargaining.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy!  
> Also HUGE thank you for the reviews.

Widow. She tasted the word and it felt dirty. She looked at herself in her bedroom mirror; her hair was, as always, impeccably curled and in place, her black dress hugged her svelte figure and her make-up was just the right combination of perfect and demure. Everything about her appearance covered the cracks in her façade, her iron walls. Except her eyes. She stared at her eyes blankly in the mirror. They looked dead and she couldn’t deny she felt dead. She certainly wished she was. 

She could hear David’s family out in the main part of the house, and she knew she’d have to make an appearance soon. The thought was weighing her down and when she glanced out the window, she saw the cars waiting like two black Trojan horses. She felt sick. They were waiting to take her to a place she despised despite having never been there, an event she didn’t want to ever attend and yet here she was. He was younger than her, he had made a contribution to the world, had children, protected people. She had only ruined lives. She sighed, smoothing down her dress as she opened her door. The onslaught of conversation from his family hit her like a hurricane and she took a deep breath, preparing herself. She already wished she could hide inside her warm flat, a safe haven from all the curious glances, the crying relatives she didn’t know. But the flat wasn’t a safe haven anymore now he was gone. It was a suffocating capsule of everything she’d lost.

_“It’s really not that big a deal!” he was saying, but to her it had been a big deal. This was how it always started. It’s how it started with Roger_ _and now she was panicked_ _. “I just don’t want to go.”_

_“David you have to go! You are my husband_ _;_ _how will it look if I turn up alone?” she said coldly._

_“Is that all you care about? How it will look if I’m not there to follow you around like some puppy dog, fetching drinks and fielding off questions about politics I literally couldn’t give a shit about, from people I hate??” He threw his hands in the air and her breathing increased in pace, her jaw clenching._

“Morning, love,” David’s mother, Susan said as she appeared. 

The entire household turned to look at her and she wanted the ground to swallow her whole. She tried to smile but all that happened was a slight twitch of her lips. She doubted she’d ever smile again.

“Did you sleep okay?” Susan said as the rest of the family went back to their strained conversation. She couldn’t see the Vicky or the children. 

Julia clenched her hands so tight together she thought she might break her fingers. Then again, the physical pain would be far better than the turmoil and searing heat tearing her apart now. 

“Erm...Yes, thank you, Susan,” she said, meeker than normal. 

They were at the church before she’d even registered that they had gone anywhere. Julia wondered just how the hell she’d even got there, her eyes roaming over the various mourners, only recognising one or two faces besides David’s immediate family. His sister had been at her side since they had arrived, until her own husband pulled her away, leaving Julia feeling lonelier than ever. Or she would feel lonely if there wasn’t something hotter running through her, threatening to spill tears down her cheeks. 

“I’m so sorry for your loss.” The old man blinked at her, his hand on hers. She looked down at their clasped hands, dazed. She was getting sick of hearing it. Everyone was so sorry for her loss, the loss of her beloved husband, but nothing could dowse the flames inside her, burning her stomach from the inside out. 

“I didn’t lose him, he died,” she said bluntly, biting her lip as he patted her on the shoulder and walked away.

She swallowed the lump as Vicky appeared through the crowd, one hand leading Charlie, the other holding a black jacket. Ella trotted along gravely behind. Charlie pulled out of his mother’s hand and went to Julia. She lent down, her black trench coat floating behind her as she pulled the boy into a hug. She wanted to cry then, feel any emotion other than the rage that was blooming. 

_“Is that what you think? You hate being out with me so much because you don’t want to be asked your opinion?” she_ _said,_ _and he screwed up his face._

_“You are twisting everything I say!” he snapped. He was tired of this now._

_“_ _So,_ _tell me, what it is that’s bothering you?? You don’t want to go because you don’t want to be spoken to?” she said, dropping her tone to a cooler octave. One he knew meant he was treading on dangerous territory._

_“I don’t want to be your show pony!” he said, louder than he meant to and her mouth dropped open._

_“Well if that’s what you think, you know where the door is,” she said quietly, threateningly._

_“For fuck’s sake Julia, stop doing that!! Why don’t you listen to me for once instead of throwing a hissy fit and telling me to leave!” He felt the irritation, the frustration growing like twisting grape vines around his chest._

_“Okay, tell me. I’m_ _listening now,” she said, resting her hands on her hips._

_He looked at her, sighing._

_“I - just don’t want to go,” he was_ _saying,_ _and she dropped her hands, exasperated._

_“David, I need you to go!” she cried. They were going around in circles and she felt he was further away from her than ever before._

_“For fuck’s sake. Sometimes I wish I’d never met you!”_

“I miss daddy,” he cried in her ear. She offered no words of sympathy; there was little point in telling him she felt the same, that she missed his daddy more than anything in the world. 

“He’s been crying all morning,” Vicky said solemnly when Julia pulled away and rose back to full height. Behind her mother, Ella refused to meet anyone’s eyes. “How are you?” 

Julia ran a hand over her hair and considered the question. She considered the truth but felt it unfair to subject the children to her diatribe about how shit life was. She settled for a one shouldered shrug. 

They fell into an awkward silence and just as the former Mrs Budd was about to open her mouth, another fucking well-wisher was already on a beeline for the now widowed Mrs Budd.

“Oh Mrs Budd, I’m so sorry for your loss,” the woman, dressed in a police uniform, said, and Julia wanted to scream. “He died a hero, I hope you can take solace and pride in that at least.”

Julia opened her mouth, her eyes wide and her hands trembling. She was the furthest thing from proud.

“Yes, I'm incredibly proud that my husband ran into the line of fire, got killed and left his wife and two children behind. I’m so proud of that,” she said waspishly, moving into the church before either the woman or Vicky could say anything. She knew her outburst would be blamed on her grief but the truth was she was so fucking angry she wished David was alive just so she could kill him all over again. 

_He knew it was a mistake the moment he said it as he watched her face fall_ _before_ _she reconstructed her walls._

_“Julia... I’m sorry... I didn’t-” he_ _started,_ _and she turned away from him to hide the hurt flickering in her eyes._

_She made to move past_ _him,_ _but he sidestepped her, blocking her exit. Her eyes rose sharply to meet his, anger burning over_ _her,_ _and she pushed at him. He wouldn’t move._

_“David-” she_ _snapped,_ _and he held her arms first, his hands travelling up to cup her face, his own, close to hers._

_“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it, I love you,” he said barely above a whisper, her eyes searching his, focusing on his mouth as he leaned in. Just before he touched her lips,_ _he murmured, “I love you.”_

_And she swept his mouth into hers, nipping at his lower lip, her fingers tangling in his curls. He pushed her against_ _the wall, his mouth hot on her neck, his fly_ _unzipped. Without_ _waiting for her to make the first move,_ _he tore her_ _trousers down, pushing aside her knickers and lifting her leg around his waist. He sank into her with a passionate groan._

The service was relatively short. David, nor his family subscribed to traditional religion and Julia watched as the rest of the congregation filtered out of the church, into cars that would drive them to a wake at the Budd family house that she wanted no part of. 

“Are you sure you won’t come?” Susan said, touching her arm. She hoped she was smiling back at her, but she wasn’t convinced. 

“No, I don’t think I can face it,” she said, looking onto the horizon. 

“Okay, well come back to the house when you’re ready,” Susan said and then she was walking away with the rest of the family that had come to accept her since marrying one of theirs. 

Julia looked around the empty churchyard, listened to the cold silence before she walked around the side of the churchyard, following the headstones of former loved ones until she found the fresh burial mound that covered her husband. The space was relatively uniform, an oblong was the only area he’d ever occupy now, and she lowered to her knees. 

She buried her fists into the loose ground and leaned in, her mouth open in a soundless cry. She counted to three before she found the strength to scream. It was a loud and shrill noise that shook the birds from the trees. She screamed, over and over again until her voice went hoarse.

“I hate you!” she screamed at the ground, pounding on his grave. “I fucking hate you!”

_He felt so good pulsing inside her that she almost forgot how angry she was and ached to give herself entirely over to him. She gripped at his shoulders as he thrust into her with a ferociousness that had her whimpering._

_“Please,” the word tumbled from her before she could stop it and she was almost horrified by the_ _pathetic weakness of it._

_He kissed her neck, holding her up by the middle as he lifted her up and sank her back down onto him, driving his full length right to the hilt, spearing right through her._

_“I love you,” he was groaning in her ear as she trembled around him._

_She wanted to tell him she knew, tell him she did too but all that came out were muffled cries of pleasure as he drove her beyond oblivion and into the next life. She came with a murmured groan that had him shaking and spurting into her._

_He didn’t pull out of her, even as their breathing had returned to normal and_ _the orgasmic atmosphere had dissipated. His arms held her tight against him and she almost didn’t want him to ever let her go._

_“You make me a better person than I am, I could never wish for a life where I never met you,” he said_ _quietly,_ _and she pulled her head away from his shoulder to look at him, the sincerity in his eyes burned a hole through her chest as she leaned in and kissed him._

She stopped, chest heaving, her breaths coming in ragged gasps in and out. She looked to her right to see the vicar from the service standing on the steps of the church, looking at her as if she’d gone mad. Perhaps she had. She certainly didn’t feel like herself. And who could blame her? She had lost half of herself. The half of herself that made her want to be a better person. 

Julia stared at the man for several uncomfortable seconds before he retreated, apparently leaving her to whatever soul-destroying sadness was eating her from the inside out and she redirected her glance at the earth that would caress David’s body in a way she never could.

“Please come back,” she said to him. It sounded weak and that was not a word she had often attributed to herself before. But she was weak now. Her armour was broken, in tatters at her feet and the only one who could rebuild it was not there to do so. “Please come back to me.”

When he didn’t magically appear, a dry sob broke through her ribs and she looked at the sky. 

“Bring him back! I'll do anything, just bring him back!” she said, voice breaking. “Please.”


	4. Depression

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The fourth stage is depression

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so, so, SO sorry.  
> And thank you so much for the comments :)

“Love,” his voice was soft in her ear and she looked at him, surprised and perhaps a little horrified. He was standing in front of her, like he had returned from the shop.

“You’re not here,” she said, lifting her head up to look at him. David frowned and knelt in front of her, resting a hand on her cheek.

“Of course, I am,” he half frowned, half grinned. “I only popped out for a bit.”

“You did?” she said. His hand was warm on her face and his eyes were swimming with concern.

“Are you alright, love?” he said softly, leaning in to kiss her forehead.

“I don’t know... I dreamt that you had...” she started, unable to say the words. His grin slowly fell as genuine worry took over.

“Julia, I’m right here,” he said.

The phone was ringing, shrilly piercing the stale air inside the flat. 

“The phone’s ringing,” Julia said, trying to sit up. David shook his head.

“Julia, the phone’s not ringing.” he said. “I think I need to call a doctor.”

“No, no I can hear it! You need to get it!” she cried, and he was holding her arms as she got more and more animated.

Julia’s eyes flew open and she gasped inwards. David faded away just as quickly as the dream evaporated. The phone rang again, and she cursed its existence, yearning to return to the warm world where he was still there. But he wasn’t and she couldn’t even cry anymore. 

She rolled out of the bed and padded across the cold flat to swipe up the offending item form the cradle.

“Hello?” she said weakly. She listened to David’s mother’s concerned voice with closed eyes, patience dissipating. “Susan, honestly, I’m fine...I really would love to but I'm working from home and I really just ...can’t. I will though, soon, I promise.” Only a half lie. She had resisted compassionate leave furiously in the early weeks, opting to work from home but even that had taken a backseat to the blackness that had engulfed her.

As she listened to her mother-in-law, she approached the kitchen, flicking the kettle on and breath catching slightly when she saw the time. It was three in the afternoon and she had been in bed almost 24 hours. The work she insisted she was doing, laid untouched on the counter.

_She heard his advancement before he announced himself with a kiss to her neck, his arms hugging her waist._

_“Something smells good,” he said, pulling away to yank the scarf from around his neck and chuck it on the side. “And the food smells good too actually.”_

_She looked away from the stove to roll her eyes playfully at him._

_“How was work?” she chose to level at him instead of mock-admonish him._

_He_ _shrugged._ _“No one died.”_

_David was never one for idle chatter, choosing his words carefully so that each one had a purpose and meaning, unlike her who had been stage-managed for so much of her life that she could launch into a spiel about anything. She smiled at his quiet_ _reservedness_ _._

_“I’m not sure it’s meant to look like that,” she said, looking_ _down at the pan with a frown. He followed her glance, his hand resting on the small of her back._

“I really should go, I have a ton of cases to work over... but thank you for calling,” she was saying. It all sounded so clinical; autopilot had kicked in weeks ago and she wasn’t quite sure how to turn it off. “Okay, bye.”

She cut the call, replacing the phone in the cradle and she stared at it for a few minutes before leaning in to rip the wire from the wall. 

Julia ran a hand over her hair, deciding if she wasn’t going to do any actual work, she should at least do something around the house, anything to drown out the empty silence. She struggled into the spare room, pulling cardboard boxes out that she had already made up in a fit of productivity several weeks ago, and dragged them into the bedroom. 

Opening the closet was almost like being shot when she saw his suits and shirts hanging like they were just waiting to be worn again. She pulled the hangers out in clumps, tossing his clothes onto the bed and pulling each shirt methodically off its hanger, placing it into the allocated box like a well-oiled and thoughtless machine. 

His jackets were not so easy. 

_“Are you sure you don’t want take out?” he said, his face a mix of mirth and faux concern for his health._

_She reached out and smacked his arm with the tea-towel._

_“Just because you’re a_ _Miche_ _lin star chef,_ _” she growled and he leaned in, lips full of laughter._

_“Love, you have far better talents than cooking.” He kissed her on the jawline, appeasing her. “And for those, I am eternally grateful.”_

_His hand was back around her waist, his teeth on his lip as he bit_ _down,_ _and he was turning her towards him. Sometimes she felt like she was always in a state of seduction and lust when he was around, unable to stop herself being drawn to his flame like a moth._

_“Really?” she raised her eyebrows as she relinquished her hold on the cooking spoon and snaked her arm around his neck._

She held up one of his jackets, a heavy apathetic feeling falling over her like a cruel blanket. She read the dry cleaners' ticket (Mr D Budd) and knew it couldn’t possibly smell like him anymore, but she pulled it up to her face, holding it against her cheek silently. She had stopped to think about the task, and that was her downfall. Once she considered the task, she halted, the unresponsive blankness in her was starting to give way to a crushing coldness that brought tears to her eyes just as she thought she had no more tears left. 

She chucked the remaining clothes back into the closet and pushed the nearly empty boxes to the end of the bed. She’d deal with it another day. Instead she climbed into the bed, pulling the duvet over her head and closing her eyes as the tears came again; in trickles at first before evolving into heaving sobs that became one loud cry. 

_“_ _Mhm_ _,” he grinned, biting his lip in a way he knew she loved. She leaned in and kissed him, her tongue running over his lower lip where his teeth had left their mark, her fingers tangling in his hair. “Like that for one thing.”_

_He sounded breathless and she smirked when she felt his already sizable erection, pleased with the effect she always had on him._

_“And you’re very good at debating, talking, speeches...” he started, leaning in to take her lip between his teeth, sucking on it as he kissed her. Apparently, he enjoyed the way he_ _had an effect on_ _her, just as much as she did him, she mused as his hands kneaded her hips. “Fucking.”_

_A faint whimper crept from her when he dipped his head to her neck, his hand seeking its target beneath her trousers._

_“Please,” she cried against his neck and he pulled away, eyes burning._

_“What about dinner?” he said, raising an eyebrow. She leaned in._

_“We’ll get take out,” she breathed as she dipped her tongue into his mouth, tangling with his. He swept her up with hungry desire and she wrapped her legs around him with a gleeful giggle._

When Julia opened her aching eyes, it was dark and she sat up, disorientated. She rubbed a hand over her face and pulled herself from the tangle of sheets which showed her she’d had nightmares she didn’t care to remember. The flat was cold as she padded across it to the fridge, staring at the wine bottle for longer than would be considered normal before she pulled it out, feeling its comfortable curves in her hand.

She unscrewed the cap and held it up to her lips, taking several large gulps, her eyes closing as the soothing liquid slid down her throat. When she pulled it away from her mouth, her glance settled on a padded envelope on the breakfast counter. She knew what it was, it had been there for a long time now, unopened and unseen since the day he’d left her.

Clutching her wine, she made her way over to it, sliding wearily onto the breakfast stool. How many times had they eaten breakfast here together? She thought dryly. She pulled the envelope towards her, sliding her finger along the edge, and tipping it upside down. 

From its confines spilled a gold ring, a wallet and a warrant card covered in dried blood. The ring spun wildly before she plucked it up between her finger tips, before attempting to crush it in her palm. She opened his wallet, almost immediately wishing she hadn’t when she saw the photo of them, the kids, all in happier times, smiling up at her. She didn’t relinquish control over his ring as she brought her fist up to her forehead.

“Oh David!” she whimpered. “Why did you have to ruin me?”


	5. The Upward Turn (& Return to Depression)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The upward turn - when things begin to look better.  
> The return to depression - when things go back to looking bleak

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm in pain, so now you can be too :)  
> Thank you for all the reviews!

She was smiling. For the first time since the darkness had descended, she was smiling. And what’s more, she was enjoying herself. 

Julia hadn’t believed her friends when they had insisted she needed to get out the house, but three chardonnays into her evening and she couldn’t deny she was having a good time. At least, for the first time in four months her smile wasn’t forced. She could see her old law school friend watching her from the corner of her eye, casually checking to ensure she hadn’t slunk off to the bathroom to cry, or worse, run home. 

But she had stuck it out, and now she was letting some guy spin her around the dance floor like she was a ragdoll. It was all so intoxicating. For the first time since she’d … lost HIM, she didn’t feel like she was suffocating under a shroud of despair. 

_The first time she saw him in a kilt, her knees went weak. More annoyingly, he knew it as he strutted into the room. He had not prepared her for this wedding attire and her mouth fell open when she saw him. She had expected a tuxedo, a suit, anything but what he was standing in now._

_“I-” she said, her voice faltering as he came_ _near,_ _and her eyes almost crossed when he smiled. He knew he was having an adverse reaction on her, appreciated the lust in her eyes as he crossed the room_ _towards_ _her. “You’re wearing a kilt?”_

_He laughed. “It is a Scottish wedding, love.”_

_When he was within a hair’s breadth of her, her mouth parted instinctively, her breath quickening. He looked over her perfectly c_ _urled_ _hair, the_ _figure-hugging_ _thistle purple dress that complimented the strips of_ _colour_ _in his kilt, and he touched her face._

The man’s hand was around her waist, in her hair, his tongue in her mouth before they’d even reached the front door. He didn’t taste the same as David, but she tried to push that fucking Scottish bastard from her mind as the stranger's hands found their way to her thigh as he pressed her against the door, closing it with their combined weight. It felt good to just think about something other than HIM and this guy was panting heavily in her ear as he struggled with his belt, fumbling with the buckle.

“Fucking thing,” he growled, and she leaned in, taking it out of his control as he reached around to unzip her dress, pulling her body so close to him she could smell the faint trace of old spice in his hair and the intoxication from the alcohol, combined with the smell made her head light. 

She had released the buckle but he hadn’t managed the zip on her back and she leaned around to get it herself but she couldn’t reach, her fingers fumbling over it multiple times before she let out a cry of frustration.

_“You know what they say?” his voice was low in her ear, just for her. She jumped only slightly; she hadn’t even been aware of his stealthy presence._

_“_ _Mmm_ _?” she hummed coyly, watching his youngest sister dance with her new husband. She looked beautiful, no one could deny it and Julia felt a level of peace as she watched the girl being spun around the room, that she perhaps hadn’t felt prior to the Budd presence in her life._ _His hand was on her back, and she smiled._ _She and David, however, were still at the early point of their relationship where everything was exciting, new and she could never quite keep the desire from her eyes when she looked at him. Nor he, her._

_“About how there’s nothing underneath?” he purred, and she felt her stomach tighten. She tried to remain_ _cool and swallowed._

_“_ _So_ _I've heard,” she said, voice husky around the lump of desire in her throat. His hand trailed up the zip on her dress, resting near the top where her bare skin prickled under his touch._

_“We could test that theory...” he said, tracing circles on her skin and she bit her lip. He let the words linger in the air as her pulse quickened with_ _longing_ _._

She pushed him away as he reached under her dress to her underwear. His face contorted in confusion tainted with anger as she stepped back from him.

“I’m sorry, I can-” she started, feeling something cold creeping in. “I can’t do this.”

“You make a habit of being a fucking cock tease, hmm?” he snarled, and she took a step back. He moved towards her and she felt adrenaline warming her blood.

“I need you to leave, please,” she said. Once upon a time, her voice would have been strong, determined but she had been eroded away by love, grief and despair so it came out barely more than a begged whisper. 

The man’s soft face (the one that had looked so much like David after three glasses of wine) was now contorted like a gargoyle, angry and dangerous. He took another step towards her and she reached out to the wall to steady her spinning head. 

“You can’t just lead a man on like that, you know.” It was cold, and she couldn’t believe she had equated him with the softness of her deceased husband, even if she had been helped along by intoxication.

She leaned in, her hand going to his groin and his smirk became a seductive smile, until she squeezed down, almost crushing his bollocks between her fingers just as David had taught her. 

“You need to be able to take care of yourself, love,” he’d said, and she’d frowned, a little narked at the inference that she couldn’t look after herself. “I won’t always be around to protect you.”

_“Lead the way, Sergeant,” she turned to him, a small grin flickering across her features. He took her hand and swept her across the dance floor, slipping behind the bathroom door._ _Everything about them was effortless, from the way he made her feel, to the way he touched his mouth against hers chastely. He held her against the door, locking it pointedly, his intense eyes never leaving hers. Her breath quickened. His erection pressed against her._

_He leaned in, nipping at her lip before his tongue dived into her mouth and a heavy passion drowned them in fire. As they stumbled towards the counter, she pushed at his jacket, letting it fall to the floor as he pulled up her dress, punching the purple material around the top of her thighs. His hands grazed her thighs, tracing the skin he knew so well already, before he slid his hands around her underwear, slipping them down and she let out a yelp of surprise when he lifted her onto the counter with_ _ease, their mouths never quite separated._

_She wrapped her legs around his_ _waist and_ _when he_ _lifted_ _the edge of the kilt, she felt a lustful delight when he proved he had not_ _been lying, that he was completely_ _free. S_ _he gripped at his shoulder when he pushed into her, not quite the gentle lover he usually was. She was already being torn undone by the_ _raging_ _rhythm_ _he was setting, chipping away at the last parts of her sanity as he groaned and huffed in her ear. His arms were strong, tight around her back, holding her so close to him she couldn’t tell where he_ _ended,_ _and she began,_ _and her breaths were coming out in gasps, heavy pants as he filled her so entirely._

“I told you, you need to leave!” Julia snapped, her alley-cat strength returning, even if only in shards as she released the whimpering man cowering at her feet. He looked at her full of something that could only be described as pure disgust, but she didn’t care. She wouldn’t care if another man never found her attractive again. 

“You’re not worth it anyway, frigid bitch,” he muttered as he limped through her door and she slammed it behind him, resting her forehead against it, hand flat as she waited for her panicked breathing to slow.

She missed him so much. It had snuck back up on her when she was least expecting it and now her short breaths were becoming harder, more laboured as his face swam before her eyes. 

“You need to stop this, sweetheart,” he said from behind her. His voice was calm and soft, full of concern and she screwed her eyes tight. 

“Stop it,” she tried to say. She hated how weak she’d become.

“You need to take care of yourself,” he said and she bit her quivering lip. 

“You’re not real, I know that.”

_“_ _God,_ _I love you,” he murmured against her neck. David was not usually one for extended dialogue, especially during sex but she loved the moments he chose to speak for they were usually filled with meaning, emotion. David Budd never said things_ _idly_ _._

_It was only the second time he had said it_ _and she tried to return the sentiment but when her mouth opened, nothing would come out but a whimper as she reached the plateau, a_ _tsunami of pleasure threatening to engulf her entire being._

_“Ahh uh,” she cried when it crashed into her, pulling her apart in every way as the orgasm had her lifting off the counter, every muscle contracting as if besieged by an electric current._

_He held her so tight, he was unsure if she could breathe but her trembling body was almost too much to bear as he made the most animalistic noise,_ _she’d ever heard him make, in her ear, burying his face in her neck until they’d stopped writhing._

_She turned her head towards him, kissing his neck lightly._

_“I love you too,” she said breathlessly._

And when she turned around, he was gone, just like she suspected he would be. But it hurt inexplicably all the same, like a black shroud of utter desolation had befallen her all over again. She felt the pressure building, the unbearable devastation crushing down on her and she wondered if she could even cry anymore. She doubted it; she thought she’d out cried her body’s capability to make tears and she padded over to the kitchen, pulling a wine bottle from the fridge. There was a glass on the draining board from the night before and she swiped it up, pouring the soothing liquid into it and raising it to her lips. 

Julia drank greedily, like it was water, even though it was cheap and tasted bitter. It was enough to dull the ache in her chest and when she drained the first glass, she poured another, and another. Until she thought of all the nights they’d spent drinking wine, learning about one another, making love. She let out a dry sob into the glass before she set it on the counter with a frustrated sigh. Even she could see she was becoming a cliché, ‘depressed woman spends nights drinking alone’. But she couldn’t quite muster the energy to care as she discarded the glass, carrying the bottle to her bedroom and sinking beneath the duvet, the bottle her only comfort now he was gone. 

She needed help. 


	6. Reconstruction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Julia needs help to get back to who she was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all the reviews!

She’d considered the end. 

It seemed easy to just find a way to join him in the darkness, to reunited on some ethereal plain. If she believed in any of that, which she did not. And David would never forgive her for doing something so stupid. 

So, she remained stuck... for weeks and weeks, wanting to stop breathing, to lay down and die but being unable to do anything about it. Pain swept over her in waves, carrying her through the days like they didn’t matter, because nothing mattered. He was gone. So no, nothing mattered anymore.

“You have to get up, love,” his voice was soothing in her ear like he’d been gone for only a moment.

She opened her sore eyes, half expecting to see him lying opposite her, wishing it more than anything in the world. Of course, he wasn’t there, and she swallowed, her throat dry as a desert. Nausea churned in her stomach. 

She rolled out of the bed that seemed too big for her alone and lurched into the bathroom where she projectile vomited into the toilet, dropping to her knees painfully as she heaved up the contents of last night’s nutrition that consisted mostly of red wine. 

She needed help.

And that’s what she did. 

“I miss my husband,” she said softly to the kind faced therapist opposite her. Her voice began to crack. “I miss him more than I thought I could ever miss anyone.”

The woman sat back, eyes kind yet not quite understanding. Unless she’d lost the love of her life, Julia doubted she’d ever understand the pain. 

“Tell me about him,” Doctor Nevel said and Julia flinched, her throat constricting.

_“It’s a travesty.” Something about the forceful, and passionate way he said it, almost made Julia swoon as she watched him pick at his chips with the flimsy wooden fork. “Everywhere you go up North, mushy peas, curry gravy. It’s a damn standard.”_

_“I’m sure somewhere in London must do them,” she_ _humoured_ _him as she bit into a chip of her own. She’d never seen him so animated and the way his brows knitted together in a mix of sadness and fury, was alluring she couldn’t deny._

“Do I have to?” she only said. It sounded so weak she hated herself.

“It might help to move past your grief by acknowledging the loss by allowing yourself to remember him.”

What did that even mean?? Like she couldn’t stop the barrage of memories of David flooding her mind every waking moment. She couldn’t even get respite in sleep now that he was coming to her in her dreams unless she drank a bottle of wine before bed. It was becoming a vicious cycle. 

“I...” Julia started, voice cracking in ways she abhorred. She stopped for so long that she thought her therapist might give up on her, but instead the woman sat back with a patient smile and pen poised to paper. “David is … David was the most generous person I’ve ever met. Something about him just makes-made everyone feel at ease.”

“You struggle to talk about him in the past tense.” It was a statement rather than a question and Julia raised her eyes to look at her. This whole thing suddenly seemed so absurd. “Because you haven’t truly accepted his passing, I think.”

Every raw nerve of her body stung as if flames licked at her skin, and she wanted it to stop.

“How can I?” she blurted, surprising even herself. “How can I accept that he walked into my life and destroyed it when he left?”

Doctor Nevel’s face softened as she jotted something in the file on her lap. 

_“Do you miss being a proper family?” she asked, pushing the empty chip container to the end of the bed and turning to him. She held the sheet loosely around her naked body and watched as he rested his head on the headboard thoughtfully._

_“Aye, sometimes.” His face was one of nostalgia and perhaps a little melancholia._

_She ruminated on that, chewing her lip._

_“Do you think you’ll work it out, one day?” The question_ _was_ _so left field, his head snapped towards her and she averted her glance just in time._

_“Julia-” He shifted over to her,_ _apparently_ _seeing through her._

"How was your marriage?” 

She gasped in quietly, picking at a loose thread on her sleeve as she tried to consider the question.

“It was good,” she said, without looking up. The good doctor was too good at her job to let it go. 

“Good? Can you elaborate? Tell me about the two of you. How you met, for example?” The question was like a loaded gun; where on earth could she begin?

“He was my assigned protection officer at work.” She closed her eyes, fighting back the nausea as she thought of their beginnings in this world. It hurt so much worse than anything she’d ever felt. When she opened them, the therapist was looking at her lap.

“Through your work at the home office, yes?” the woman checked her notes and looked over her glasses at her.

“Yes. We survived a … someone tried to attack my car, he was there, and we were lonely, afraid, and we slept together.” Dredging up the past felt horrible and she wished she was anywhere but there. “It wasn’t supposed to be anything...”

She looked to the therapist for prompting, expecting some kind of judgement or question asked but neither were forthcoming.

“But then I fell in love.” Julia gasped in, a wayward sob breaking through, breaking her voice in two.

_“Who I was … before Afghanistan, that’s who Vicky wants back. I’m not him anymore.” His eyes sought out her gaze and when he caught_ _it,_ _she tried to stop the flicker of hurt at his non-answer flashing across her face. She_ _realised_ _he must have sensed her insecurity because he reached a hand out to her cheek. “That’s not who I am anymore. And it’s not who I want to_ _be._ _I’m here. This is me, now.”_

_He leaned in, his hand in her hair as his mouth grazed hers. Her eyes fluttered closed, and her hands reached out for him, wrapping around his neck. His tongue tangled with hers as he nudged her onto her back, unfolding her once more beneath his weight. She laughed lightly against his mouth before it gave way to a moan._

Julia opened her mouth to speak but nothing came, and she pulled furiously at the loose thread on her sweater until she had torn it free and even then she was unsatisfied. She wanted to tear everything apart.

“Tell me how you feel when you talk about David,” Doctor Nevel says, driving the stake further into her heart.

“I’m so angry.” 

“Okay, tell me about that. Why are you angry?” 

“I’m so fucking angry that he left me here!” she snapped, tears springing to her eyes and the doctor nodded slowly as if they had made progress. But it wasn’t going to bring him back to her was it? “And I'm … I want to go back to the last time I saw him. So I can tell him how much I hate him for what he’s done to me.”

“Tell me about the last time you saw him?” The questioned floored her. It was not a memory she wanted to remember. 

“It...” Her voice wavered.

_“Are we_ _gonna_ _talk?” She snapped to, to see David looking across the table at her, hands wrapped around a cup of coffee. His face was etched with concern but also a hint of irritation. He was annoyed at her mood and she had let it escalate._

_And it was only eight-thirty in the morning._

_“There’s nothing to say,” she said,_ _returning_ _to the opened report in front of her. She knew he was rolling his eyes and she could hear him sigh into his cup._

_“You really irritate me when you get like this.”_

_That hurt more than it_ _should,_ _and she looked up at him._

“We argued...” Julia said when could control the shaking in her voice. The lump grew in her throat. “We were supposed to be going Christmas shopping, but he was called into work. So, I was angry.”

“Did you feel that you were rational in your anger?” 

Of course, she hadn’t been. And that cracked her heart in two. She crossed her legs, then uncrossed them.

“No,” she said quietly, her eyes dropping to her lap. 

“I think the anger you felt, is something that’s grounding you to not being able to let go. Perhaps you feel like the anger is all you have left of him?” Doctor Nevel looked expectantly at her as she tried to squeeze her shaking hands together. “If you could go back, what would you do differently?”

_“Well it really irritates me when we make plans and then you decide to go to work instead.” It wasn’t his fault, she knew_ _that,_ _but she couldn’t stop the fury biting at the back of her neck._

_“We’ve been over this, I don’t decide when to get called in,” David said, dropping his cup to the table with more force than he meant._

_“You better go.” She didn’t look up from her report. She heard the chair scrape back, knew he was doing as she said and her resolve almost broke when he was standing at her side._

_“I said I’d make it up to you,” he murmured as he leaned in and kissed the top of her head. “I love you.”_

_She pursed her lips, only allowing herself to look up when she heard the door slam behind him. She chewed her lip. She wished she had said she loved him back. She would call him after lunch, go over to his office if necessary._

“I would’ve told him I love him,” she said the words that had haunted her for so many long months. “I was going to ring him later that day but … it was too late.”


	7. Acceptance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The final stage of grief is "acceptance"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the reviews!  
> I know it's been a while but I'm back, and better than ever - and ready to get going with as much David/Julia goodness as I can :D   
> TY to the gift group (you know who you are), Tiff, and Margot.

“Do you think David didn’t know you love him?” The question was laden with empathy, a sadness Julia imagined therapists amassed over the years they fixed damaged people.

“No, it’s just...” Where could she find the words even if she wanted to voice her deepest fears? “I feel so guilty.” 

“That’s all we have time for today, but we will pick this up again next week. You should be proud of yourself, Julia. You've made real progress.”

The thought did little to comfort her when she got back to her flat but as she unwrapped her scarf slowly, she looked over at the kitchen drawer. Julia stalked over to it, lead weighing down her stomach as she pulled it open, shuffling things out the way to reveal a simple gold band laying at the bottom. Swallowing, she pulled it out, holding it delicately between her thumb and forefinger, feeling the cold metal brush against her fingertip.

She laid it on the counter, and sank into the seat in front of it, eyes fixed firmly on the last piece of him she had left. Five years. Five years was all they’d been given. Five years that wiped out everything else in her life and filled it with love and tenderness. And the most beautiful, warm human being she had ever met. Now it was cold all over again.

After a long moment she reached up to her neck and unclasped the simple gold chain she’d always worn and threaded the ring onto it before replacing it around her neck. It was icy against her skin and she shivered.

_When she saw the dishes, she hadn’t meant to get_ _pissy_ _with him, but it came hand in hand with the_ _shitshow_ _of stress she’d been dealing with all day and knew the moment she’d walked in that she was mad._

_“They’re just dishes, Julia, they can wait until tomorrow.” David was reasonable and had she not been fighting a dozen different negative emotions, she would have instantly agreed. Instead she didn’t._

_“No, they fucking can’t!” she snapped as she tore her coat off, skulking around him to the sink._

_“You’re being dramatic,” he murmured over the top of his mug, eyes never leaving the magazine spread out of before him. She wanted to smack him and had she not had her hands wrapped around a wine glass, she may well have done._

Julia breathed in. She wondered when the blackness was meant to abate, surely it should have started to drift away by now? She guessed she should be happy she didn’t feel so angry … but then she didn’t feel anything at all and that seemed far worse. She wondered if it was a byproduct of her new medication and she suddenly felt restless, an intense need to do something, anything. 

She once more dragged the empty boxes into their... her bedroom and threw open the closet. She didn’t need wine this time, just a steely will as she pulled shirts from it and lowered them slowly into the box, as if cradling a precious child. Her fingers grazed over the delicate fabric, recalling the way they felt when she was taking them off him, the way the buttons felt beneath her hands when she had tried desperately not to rip them off in anticipation of getting to her unwrapped prize. The boxes were full before she could process further thought but then Julia reached in and took the white crisp shirt off the top and held it against her face. She couldn’t quite bear to part with this one. She looked at the closet with a strange sense of relief. It laid bare now, only her own clothes hanging lonely and dejected. But she didn’t feel quite so empty.

_She ignored him. She always ignored him when she was mad at him, lest she start shouting and screaming._

_“Julia - just leave it for fuck’s sake!” he said from behind her and she jumped, covering the movement by whirling to face him. When she did, a glass slipped from her grasp, shattering on the draining board with spectacular effect._

_“Are you going to just be a hindrance all fucking night or are you going to do something useful?!” she said, voice low and cutting. He took a step back, a flash of something hot shooting up his spine as his patience wore thin._

_“I’m going out-” He was at the doorway before she called him back. Reluctantly, he returned his glance to her but was caught off balance when she threw herself at him, arms lacing around his neck, mouth hot, open, wanting against his._

_He pulled back, holding her face, eyes searching hers, confused amusement spread across his lips._

_“What’s this about?” he said quietly to her, playfully but imploring all the same._

_She huffed._

_“Forget it!”_

_She was turning around before he could respond, and his arm jerked out to grab her wrist._

_“Wait!” He pulled her towards him,_ _savouring_ _the feel of her hot, fast breaths on his face as she struggled to contain whatever it was raging inside of her. He stroked a thumb over her cheek before dipping his mouth down, their lips meeting softly, his tongue flicking against hers._

Julia only poured herself wine when she was sure the task was done. She was not ridding her life of David, she could never do that; he would forever be a part of her, inside her head, her heart and the gold band around her neck. But the physical act of removing his possessions felt cleansing. ‘Try writing a letter, tell David all the things you want to tell him, then let go,’ her therapist had said. Hadn’t she dismissed it? She chewed on her cheek as she wandered through the flat that now seemed too large and open with the lack of spirit and life in it. 

She sank onto the chair at the dining table, pulling a notepad towards her, a pen appearing in her hand before she could register having picked it up. She looked down at the paper before her, eyes roaming over the pure white paper broken up with scrawls that read ‘David...’ over and over. With a start she recognised the handwriting as her own; several (drunken) failed attempts to attempt to tell her dead husband how she felt. 

_She was on her back in her bed, David moving between her thighs, pounding away at her in a way that had gasps splitting the charged air. He was chipping away at her anger slowly but surely and she was dissolving beneath his touch. His mouth was around her pulse, sucking when he entered and biting when he withdrew, turning her light gasps into desperate cries that got louder and louder the closer she got._

_David feels her scratching at his back, leaving red trails of her passion and love crisscrossing against his pale muscles and he became vaguely aware of a time when she scratched his scars and stopped, afraid of hurting him. It had taken him frantic moments to tell her it was okay, that he couldn’t feel it, that the only thing he could feel was her and how alive she made him. Her groans became half screams, ones he knew would have the_ _neighbours_ _rolling their eyes and tutting. But he didn’t care. She was so warm and wet around him, beneath him that he could barely concentrate on any external stimulus beside_ _s_ _the way her cunt swallowed his cock like magic._

The letter was a mix of scrawled sentiments and tear-soaked lines of heartfelt emotion. In areas it was unreadable, smudged beyond recognition, but it didn’t matter. No one was ever going to read it. She unclasped the simple gold chain around her neck, letting it clatter to the glass table before she slowly slid her wedding ring and engagement ring off her left hand, threading them to lay for all eternity with their soulmate, around her neck. It felt final. It was final, she knew that. David was never coming home, he was gone but now she felt lighter. 

“I love you,” she whispered to no one, looking down at his name written by her own hand.

_When she came it was muted, mostly on account of his mouth on hers, but he could feel her trembling even after he had emptied into her and rolled to her side, pulling her against him. She rested her head on his shoulder, the anger and tension burnt away to tender love and drowsiness. He touched her hair, teasing a soft curl around between his forefinger and thumb._

_“So, are you_ _gonna_ _tell me what that was about?” he said when a heavy silence descended on the room._

_“What was what about?” Julia shuffled her head, draping her leg over his._

_“In the kitchen...” He was aware pushing her would likely result in her shutting him out entirely, not the other way around, but he had hoped orgasmic euphoria might make her more pliable._

_“I’ve had a bad day,” she_ _mumured_ _, reaching out to lace her fingers with his._

_“You sure that’s all?”_

_David cast his glance down at her, brushing his mouth over her hair. She hesitated before pulling herself up, a hand splayed out on his chest. He knew she was bad at apologies but the way her index finger traced circles over his chest was the closest she would come to owning her part in whatever went on._

_“_ _Mhm_ _.” Her head shifted, until she could kiss his shoulder. “I love you,” she murmured into her kiss._

_David looked down at her, resting a hand beneath her hair, caressing the nape of her neck._

_-x-_

It was done. Three days and it was done.

She had folded and folded until the lengthy letter fit into a decent sized envelope and then she left it on his bedside cabinet, her finger tips brushing over the ends of it like it were a rose littered with thorns, ready to tear her delicate skin to shreds, as she rolled onto the bed.

She was already in tatters. David’s departure had seen to that. But she knew she could survive this now. He had fallen in love with her strength as much as her vulnerability and she pulled his belief in her around her shoulders like a shroud, a barrier. Like armour.

_“Happy Birthday,” she whispered, crawling over the bed to get to him. It was his first birthday with her as his wife and she didn’t want to make a huge fuss. Or rather he’d made it very clear he didn’t want a fuss made._

_“Julia,” he murmured, with closed eyes. It was a subtle warning but she didn’t heed it._

_“Don’t worry your relatives aren’t coming until five,” she leaned in, kissing his jaw before flicking her ton_ _gu_ _e over his earlobe. His eyes flew open and he rolled to face her, horror written like a novel across his face. “I’m kidding David.”_

_His complexion returned to a more normal_ _colour_ _and he glared at her_ _._

Julia reached under her pillow and pulled his shirt towards her, breathing in the little scent of him it had left, her eyes closing under the weight of the past year.

“Julllllliiiiiaaaaaaa.” A sing-songy voice caressed her ear and brought her eyes slowly into focus. 

The shirt was gone, David’s smiling face lay opposite her, and she was aware of the heaviness of the leg he had draped over her. She smiled at him as he leaned in to kiss her. 

“You’re late for work,” he said with a smirk and she looked at the clock behind his shoulder to confirm his statement.

“It doesn’t matter,” she teased, running a hand over his bare back, pulling him closer to her. Her gaze averted, she suddenly felt sombre. “I’m sorry about what I said... about the argument... I never said-”

“It’s okay love, I already know.”

Julia jumped when the phone rang, a hand splayed across her pounding heart as she lay in the dark, eyes struggling to focus on the simple features of the room. She became acutely aware of fabric balled in her fist and she let the shirt go, before she lurched to pick it up the offending telephone.

_His hand reached around her, sliding up her bare thigh_ _,_ _hesitating at the hem of the thin shirt she wore before he slipped beneath. Then she pulled away, wagging her finger at him as she skulked away from him._

_“What?’ His face_ _was_ _a picture of disappointment until she hesitat_ _ed_ _by his covered cock._

_“It’s your birthday_ _, this is one of my gifts to you_ _.”_

_Julia’s voice was seductive, dangerous even as she hooked two fore fingers into his boxers and slowly pulled them down so mini David_ _could be_ _freed into the world. He loved the way her eyes always appreciated his naked physique and he let out a moan when her hand enclosed around him._

“Hello?” She hated the way her voice sounded so weak. 

“Julia... it’s me...” Vicky’s voice was thick with a concern Julia cared little for; she didn’t need her husband’s ex checking up on her. On the other hand, it was the first true social interaction she had had in what felt like weeks.

“Hi,” she said. “Is everything okay with the children?”

She wasn’t sure why it was her first assumption, that something might be wrong. Maybe she was predisposed to now looking for the tragedy in everything. Afterall the children were the only part of David Budd that lived on. 

“Err, yup, yup, everything is fine. I just …” Vicky trailed off. The two women had never been friends, had never been good at supporting one another, never really had to in the past. Julia only wished she’d come out and say whatever it was she needed to. “Listen... Charlie and Ella really want you to come over tomorrow night for dinner. It’s erm... Dave’s birt-”

_She loved the feel of him in her mouth almost as much as he seemed to enjoy the way she twirled her tongue like an experienced gymnast over his most sensitive patches of skin_ _. He had hardened in what felt like seconds, the moment she’d kissed the tip_ _._

_David groaned_ _as she grazed her teeth over him_ _,_ _his fist clenched and over his mouth as he focused on the ceiling._ _It wasn’t how he normally woke up on his birthday_ _but he couldn’t deny how much he liked it. Clearly Julia knew too for she was looking up at him when he came._

“I know what day it is.” Julia hadn’t meant to sound quite so abrupt and she rubbed a hand over her face to try and dispel the guilt.

“I just... I don’t think you should deal with it alone, and the kids really miss you, and well we were gonna bring David’s mum down, just a small … like a dinner, just to... Please come for Charlie and Ella’s sake if nothing more.”

Julia felt tears pricking at her eyes. There was nothing she wanted less in the world than to acknowledge David’s birthday without his presence. But she couldn’t carry on pretending that the date didn’t exist either. She opened her mouth, ready to decline.

_Their eyes connected as she swallowed, something that made him twitch with unshed desire but also adoration, and soon she was crawling back up his body to lay snuggly against him, her leg draped over him. When he had recovered from his post-coital reverie, he reached out, circling his arms around her waist, hand trailing under the silky knickers she wore until he was stroking small shapes into her buttock._

_“Happy birthday,” she purred in his ear and he chuckled lightly._

_“A very happy birthday.”_

“Julia, please, I know we don’t see eye to eye on a lot of things, but I know he wouldn’t want this.” Vicky’s voice was low and imploring. Soft even.

She was right of course, he wouldn’t want his widow to become Queen Victoria before she even turned fifty, but the idea of growing old without him seemed unfathomable. She took a breath. Julia knew the idea of going out, resuming work, engagements, dating... it was all part of the process her therapist kept levelling at her. 

“Sure, what time should I come round?”

La Fin.


End file.
